


A Problematic Tale

by twiceadwarf (Kaphokis)



Category: Markiplier TV (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: F/M, Penis Size, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:06:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29352426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaphokis/pseuds/twiceadwarf
Summary: Everything seemed to be going well for Markiplier. A lucrative Youtube channel, a loyal fanbase, a loving girlfriend, a comfortable house. Then the medieval Scotsman showed up.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Amy Nelson
Comments: 1





	A Problematic Tale

It all started when the 6-foot Scotsman, dressed in leather armor and a kilt, suddenly appeared in Markiplier’s house. The wealthy Youtuber was recording some Five Nights at Freddy’s, standing up in his attic as usual. But he thought he heard some footsteps behind him, and turned around to see if Amy was coming to ask him something. Instead, he saw that imposing figure, with his wild hair and a face that vaguely resembled Mel Gibson. He screamed loudly, in a more convincing way than any of the fake screams on his let’s plays.

“Excuse me laddie, cuid ye point tae me whaur th' bog is?” asked the man.

“Who the FUCK are you and HOW did you get in my house?!” Mark asked, throwing his headphones to the floor and putting his hands atop his head.

A more quiet set of footsteps was heard, and Amy burst into the room. “Mark! I can explain.” she said, putting her hands up. “This is William. I met him in the park today. He’s from Scotland, and the weird thing is, he’s not even from our time period! He came here all the way from the 14th century! So I’ve just been showing him around our time, you know, just so he doesn’t get hurt or anything. He’s gonna be living with us for a while. William, this is Mark, say hi.”

“Awright, ye wee jimmy. Tis guid tae catch up wi` ye.” said William. He approached Mark, who flinched as the man hugged him and gave him a rough kiss on the cheek. He had no idea what this Scotsman was saying, but he was pretty sure he just called him short. He stood still for about 10 seconds straight, just staring off into the distance. “Amy, can we...talk?” he finally said, in a quiet tone of voice, glancing over at William. “In private.”

Amy pouted and nodded at the medieval knight, gesturing for him to leave the room, which he did. She closed the door and approached Mark. “What’s the problem?”

“What’s the...what’s…” Mark held his face in his hands, rubbing hard just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. He put his hands down and sighed, looking at his girlfriend incredulously. “So, let me get this straight. You meet this guy in the park who says he’s a time traveler from the fucking 14th century, who for all you know could be some junkie, and you invite him into our _home_ ? Without even letting me know beforehand? And now you want him to _live_ with us?”

“Hey, hey, why are you making me out to be the bad guy here?” said Amy, putting her hands up. “William is such a sweet guy, he would never lie like that, you just don’t know him yet! And besides, you brought over Ethan all those times without _my_ permission…”

Mark felt like he was about to burst a blood vessel. “Etha- Amy, what does that have to do with _anything_ ? We weren’t inviting him over to _live_ here! And we talked about it probably hundreds of times, we’ve been through this! What’s gotten into you today?”

“Mark. I promise you, he means no harm. He doesn’t have a home or anything, he’s completely alone in this time period. I just want to keep him for a few days, and then we can send him on a flight to Scotland? Can we just do that? Pleeeeeaaaase?” She looked up at Mark, giving him puppy-dog eyes.

They were interrupted by a loud crash downstairs. Mark ran down to see what happened, Amy chasing after him. When they arrived in the living room, the Scotsman was holding a claymore, and their 80-inch plasma screen TV was chopped clean in half. He looked at them with an almost wild fear in his eyes. “A clocked some magick illusions oan that daemon screen thare, sae ah git rid o' it fur ye.” he explained.

“No, no, sweetie. That’s called a ‘tee-vee’. And the moving pictures on it aren’t magic, they’re something called science. Mark knows all about that, he can tell you.” As Amy said this, she walked over to William, touching his arm (which was more muscular than Mark’s) and looking back at Mark with a look that seemed to say _that William is such a lovable rascal, isn’t he?_

As he examined his destroyed, multi-thousand-dollar television, and his girlfriend cozying up to this strange man, Mark felt a rage build up inside him, something more deep and primal than he had felt in a long time. Not since he had playing Getting Over It had he felt anger this strong. And almost without his control, the rage exploded out of him. “ **_NO!!!_ ** ” the half-Korean man shouted at the top of his lungs, causing both of the others to jump. “ **_YOU ARE NOT WELCOME IN MY FUCKING HOUSE! YOU GET OUT, NOW!! LEAVE! RIGHT NOW! RIGHT! THE FUCK! NOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!_ **” he bellowed, jumping at each exclamation mark and pointing at the door for emphasis.

Amy sighed, looking down at the floor, muttering something like “I didn’t want to have to do this…” She looked up at Mark and said “William, restrain him.”

The burly Scotsman marched over, and Mark, boiling with rage, tackled him, but it was no use. Mark’s strength was gained in the gym and just over the past few years, but this was a man born riding horses, plowing fields, and heaving loads of cow shit on the Scottish highlands. He had clashed with men twice his size, and with gritted teeth and sweat pouring from his brow, beat them to a bloody pulp and broke their bones with his bare calloused hands, then raised his fists and let loose a roar of pure testosterone-infused power which echoed through the Gaelic mountains. Suffice to say, this soybean-fed Youtuber was nothing to him, and he instantly locked Mark’s admittedly muscular arms behind his head. The man struggled and kicked against the Scotsman’s grip, but this ancient, masculine sinew was like pure steel to the soft, pliable modern man.

“Dae yi'll waant me tae murthur him?” he asked, looking blankly at Amy, who replied “No, no! Just hold him there” as she scrolled through her phone. Mark struggled in vain, until his blind white-hot rage had subdued itself by force, recognizing that the man who held him had not budged an inch even as he used all the strength he could muster. “Amy…” he gasped, sweat glistening on his forehead. “Why are you doing this? What’s...what’s gotten into you?”

“This.” she said, showing him her phone. “This is a Medium post I typed up in case I needed any leverage with you, ready to post at any time. It talks about how you sexually assaulted me and threatened me to keep me quiet, it’s a whole exposé, some pretty juicy stuff in there.” He looked at the phone, and indeed, on it was a post titled _The Truth about Markiplier: Reflections on an Abusive Relationship, by Amy Nelson_. “None of it is true, of course, but your fanbase is a bunch of woke 13-year-old SJW girls. Really, who do you think they would believe? If you keep acting up like this, my finger might just slip on that upload button. Got it?”

Mark stood, quivering, unsure how to react to anything at this point. It still felt like he was in some sort of Kafkaesque nightmare. “Okay...can you let go of me?” he asked, his voice soft and exhibiting the character of a broken man.

Amy analyzed his face, and then nodded to William. He dropped Mark on the ground, and he crumpled like a ragdoll. Shaking, the man began to cry, making pathetic, choked noises of grief as he looked out with tear-stained eyes on a person he no longer understood.

“‘Sblood, jimmy, yur weepin’ like a wee babe.” said the Scotsman. He walked over to Amy and scooped the woman up, carrying her in his arms. “William! Put me down!” she giggled playfully as he carried her upstairs.

-:-

Later that night, Mark was sitting in bed with Amy, watching TV as usual. Only difference was, this time there was a 230-pound Scotsman between them. They had put on WandaVision, and he didn’t know or care why they were doing a ripoff of The Brady Bunch. He had other things in mind. He had heard the sound of smooching every so often, but now, it grew more intense and passionate, and the bed squeaked as the Scotsman climbed on top of her, his powerful grip now holding her pale little wrists against the bed, his husky voice muttering Scottish nothings in her ear. He heard Amy’s little squeaks that were usually reserved for him. He pretended not to notice as they both frantically undressed, as the stranger’s rough hands passed over his girlfriend’s petite curves. When William took off his kilt, Amy’s mouth was wide open in shock. “Mark, are you seeing this thing?” she gasped. “He’s like twice as big as you!”

Mark was roused from his paralysis to get up and leave the room. She giggled at him before returning her attention to the hardened warrior. He walked like a ghost through the halls of the house bought entirely off of Five Nights at Freddy’s revenue. He came across Chica, sound asleep in her bed, and he petted her gently, choking up as he realized this was the only woman left in his life. He stood up again and walked to the bathroom.

Mark opened a small, out-of-the-way drawer with a lot of junk in it. He moved aside the junk, and took out what he was looking for, a little box, one half black and one half white, a nod to Unus Annus. On the box were inscribed the words “To Amy, the love of my life and the greatest thing that ever happened to me.” Opening up the box, he saw the velvety interior with the same color pattern, and the beautiful ring that lay inside, imbued with a priceless diamond. Even in the dim light of the moon, it sparkled.  
  


He plucked out the ring and threw it into the toilet, and without hesitation, flushed it.


End file.
